


We Drink Holy Water Like Cheap Whiskey

by awriterisfine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Hunters, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Canon-Typical Violence, Fallen Angels, Fallen Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Vampire Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2017-12-24 10:37:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awriterisfine/pseuds/awriterisfine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean was a hunter turned vampire that continued to hunt. He does it alone and is constantly hunted by vampires and hunters alike. One accidental meet up with Sam Winchester, a well known hunter, leads both of them to working together. They go seperate ways (but not before Sam finds out his secrete) and as fate would have it, meet up once again, only, Sam isn't alone. He's with his usual partner, Castiel, who is part of a group of hunters that call themselves "Angels" due to their immortality and powers. </p><p>Dean and Castiel end up close...too close for Castiel's superiors. Castiel, already known for rebeling against orders, is challenged and forced to choose between a vampire and his family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vampires Will Never Hurt You

**Author's Note:**

> So, the hunts the boys go on are basically going to be stolen from the show because I'm not creative. So I didn't make up those parts, those are 100% stolen. If people like this I'll keep this going. I've got, like, half of this planned out, but there are still a few ins and outs I need to work out. I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Comments are welcomed!

The ranger shrugged, "He's not due back for another couple of days. Until then, there's no reason why he could be considered missing. Haley is a good kid, but I think she's over reacting. She hadn't heard from him in a day or so, he's up in the woods camping, not expected back for a while. Doesn't really sound like he's gone up and missing."

"I'll be sure to talk to her next time I see her," said the man, tapping his hand on the wooden desk before turning around, meeting Sam's eyes for a fleeting second before moving past him and out the door. 

"Can I help you?" Asked the ranger.

Sam shook his head, "Actually, no, I think I'm going to just," he gestured to the door, "Go." The man sent him an odd look, but Sam didn't pay much mind because he was already out the door and walking to catch up to the mystery man. 

"Hey, are you a hunter," he asked when he reached the man at the Impala. 

The man looked up and gave him a look that Sam couldn't quite pick up, "Do you ask that to everyone you see asking about a missing person?"

"You look the type," Sam replied, not really sure how to answer. 

The man studied Sam for a moment, "What are you doing here?"

"Same as you," the man scoffed, "Heard about a potential hunt. A friend of mine sent me down here."

"He tell you what you were hunting."

Sam shook his head, "No, but it looks as though it's got something to do with the woods? A missing person?"

"Well, according to the ranger, he's not really missing. Plan on going to talk to the sister. See what she says, Maybe dig up some history on the area," he leaned on the car door, which would normally show that he was relaxed, but there was still an edge to his posture, "What's your name?"

"Sam...Sam Winchester."

For a moment something flashed in the man's eyes. It looks like fear...but that didn't seem right...more like nerves, like Sam's name made him nervous. Which wasn't too crazy, his dad had a reputation, and he had carved one for himself ever since he started hunting again, albeit a good reputation, but there was one nonetheless. 

"I'm Dean," the man said, "I'm going to head up to the sister's place," he glared at Sam's car with distaste, "You can follow me if you want. Check to see if this is worth looking into."

***

Dean cursed himself as he sped down the road. Of fucking course he would end up running into Sam fucking Winchester. One of the few people that could actually have the potential to gank him. His only struck of luck was that his friend wasn't around and the guy seemed stupid enough to trust him not being a monster. Dean may hunt and kill, but that doesn't mean that there still isn't a hell of a lot of people that would gladly cut off his head if they found out what he was. 

He didn't think he'd ever done anything so stupid. He told a damn hunter he could tag along. It would only be a matter of time, if the hunt took too long, before it became obvious what Dean was. He reminded himself that they were just going to talk to the girl, if anything checked out to be a hunt, and then it would be easy to go their separate ways. Many hunters worked alone, didn't trust a random guy they just met to watch their back. Staying out of each other's way wouldn't be too hard to accomplish. 

The ride to the house where Haley Collins lived wasn't all that far away and in no time they were both standing inside of the house, Haley Collins showing them the video of her brother. In another life Dean might have played with the idea of flirting with her (okay, yeah, he would have been all over her) but those times were long gone and he was more tired with the game than he had ever been.

"Can I have this video," Sam asked, "Just so I can go through it, maybe I can find something that might help us."

"You believe me about my brother?"

"I don't think it would hurt to look into it."

"Well, I've hired a guide," she gestured to her younger brother, Ben, "We're both heading to the hills to find Tommy in the morning."

"Whoa, wait up," Dean interjected, stepping forward with his hand out, gesturing to Haley, "You're going out there? Where there might be something that could potentially kill you? Couldn't you at least wait a few days?"

Haley glared at him for suggesting it, "Ranger, he is our brother. The three of us? All the family we have left. I'm not going to wait if there's a chance of him being up there."

"Fine, we'll be there to go with you," Dean amended, not willing to let three idiots die just because they didn't know what might be up in those hills. 

Sam coughed, "We'll just go and look over this," he said, motioning to the video. Haley nodded curtly and led them out. 

Once outside Sam asked Dean if he really thought there might be something out there. 

"Honestly, I have no clue. But better safe than dead. If there is something and those people are going trekking up the woods with a monster, they're all dead."

"Want to go through this together?" Sam asked, playing with the video in his hands, "Might be better with a second pair of eyes. I've got a motel room just down the road."

Dean hesitated, and knew that he was going to kick his own ass as soon as the words came out of his mouth, "Yeah, I know where you're talking. I have one too. I just have to stop in for a moment; I can meet you at yours once I'm done."

"Sounds perfect," Sam grinned. Dean returned it with an awkward smile of his own. Jesus Christ was he a fucking idiot. 

***

Once inside his motel room Dean locked his door, chain and all, and immediately headed to the mini-fridge. His hands were shaking now. He managed to keep them stable for the last few moments he and Sam were around each other. The sun, hidden away or not, still sapped his strength and hurt like a bitch. All he needed was a drink. 

Dean removed one of the blood packets he packed in the fridge (he had more in the back of his car. The first layer of his trunk was nearly bare, below that were his weapons, and below that was his stash of blood he kept, sent to him on irregular intervals from a friend). He drank almost greedily, only just managing to keep himself in check. He knew he would need another fix before he crashed for the night, and again in the morning. Already he was planning on drinking two when he woke up, just in case things got hairy, he would need to keep himself in check and not give himself away. 

Once certain that he was fine (as fine as one could be in his position) he headed off to Sam's room, knocking briskly before walking straight in. 

Sam looked up from his laptop and gestured for Dean to see what he was looking at. 

"I slowed down the video while you were gone; I think we might have something." He shifted so that Dean could watch the shadow streak across the tent wall.

"Whoa, that is way too fast to be a bear or something."

"Yeah, and get this," Sam clicked through the pages he had open on the computer screen, "There have been people missing from Blackwater every 23 years. The last attack was in 1959 where there was an alleged bear attack on a family."

"Anyone survive it."

Sam nodded, "A man named Shaw, he still lives around here."

"Think he'll mind if we popped in for a chat."

"It's worth a shot."

***

The monster Shaw described was no grizzly. It was smart enough to unlock a cabin door. Roared like no man or animal ever known. It moved like lightning. It was a predator, one of the best, and it was in the woods and they had to find it and find a way to kill the son of a bitch. 

***

Dean and Sam pulled up behind the guide's vehicle, both apprehensive, and neither willing to show it. Haley, Ben, and their guide, who was introduced as "Roy" were packed with all the equipment needed to hike through the forest, and nothing to save them from the beast stalking the woods. 

"You come into these woods often Roy?" Dean asked. 

Roy grunted, "Long enough to know where I'm going."

"You hunt Roy?"

"Have been since I was young."

"Deer? Bears? All the cute little furries in the-" he jerked back from Roy's hand on his chest. 

"Watch your step there ranger," Roy warned, and revealed a bear trap before pushing forward. Dean shrugged it off and offered Haley a bag of M&M's, to which she scowled and walked on ahead. He shrugged and shoved them into his pockets and they remained opened but untouched, a fact Sam stopped for a second to notice before he dismissed it as nothing. 

They found the campsite ripped and torn to shreds. A scream was heard from a distance and Haley starts out looking for her brother. Finding nothing, Dean and Sam drag the others back to the campsite where they find their packs have been taken. 

"Where did all of our stuff go?" Haley asked, frustration clearly seeping into her tone. 

"Sam, it was imitating his voice," Dean looked at Sam, green eyes wide. 

"Do you think-" 

Dean nodded, "A Wendigo."

"Wait a minute," Haley broken in, "What are you two talking about."

"We have to get out of here, before it gets too dark."

Haley shook her head and Rory stormed over to them. 

"What are you two boys going on about?" he demanded the same time Haley said "I can't just leave my brother out there."

Dean scowled, "That thing out there will kill us all if we don't get out of here."

"What thing?"

Just then another scream broke through the trees and Roy went storming out with his gun. Sam grabs a hold of Haley, pulling her back, Roy's cries following moments after. 

"What is going on?" Haley demanded, turning her anger at Sam, who looked at Dean for guidance. Dean shrugged and started on the Anasazi symbols for protection, realizing that Haley and her brother weren't going to be taken out of the woods without their brother. 

"A Wendigo," Sam repeated, "Is a monster that used to be human, but they were forced to eat human flesh to survive."

"Like the Donner Party. Where a group of pioneers were trapped by snow. To live they needed food, and so they resorted to cannibalism and ended up monsters," Dean added from where he was etching the marks into the ground. 

"They hibernate and they like to store food, in a cave, or someplace no one ever goes into."

"So my brother could still be alive," Haley asked. 

Sam nodded, "There's a chance that he hasn't been killed. Not a great one, but it's there."

"How do you even know about this," Ben asked from the edges of the lines Dean was drawing. 

"We're hunters," Sam answered, "It's kind of like our job to know this."

Later on Dean looked up, it was darker now. The flames from the fire Ben and Sam had built were licking across shadows, the movement and false screams from the Wendigo had died down, though none of them were feeling particularly restful. He was never more thankful that he thought ahead and drank more than his usual in the morning. By now he would have started feeling the familiar hunger pangs that warned him that he was getting close to full on hunger. Nightfall helped. Without the pain from sun exposure he wasn't as weak and his body didn't deplete the blood as fast. Morning would be a problem. A sunny day lay ahead and a long day was promised, which meant a hard day of fighting off the need to feed. He could do it. Had done it before. As soon as he could get away once the mess was cleaned up he would down a few packets of blood and be on his way. 

***

So much for an easy hunt, Sam thought as he and Ben followed the trail of M&M's that had fallen out of Dean's pocket when he and Haley were taken by the Wendigo. The candy lead to an abandoned mine shaft. Inside, hanging from the ceiling, was Dean, Haley, and who Sam guessed was Tommy. Rushing over to Dean he moved to cut him loose. 

"Them first," Dean choked out, "They're both alive."

Sam nodded and cut down Haley and Tommy, who woke up from the rush of freedom. He helped Dean down last. 

"You okay?"

Dean nodded and shuffled over to where the stolen packs were tossed and pulled out two flare guns and tossed one to Sam. 

"You take those three," Dean told him, "I'll distract the thing long enough for you guys to get out." Better him than them. If he ends up dead then there's no loss. The others, Sam included, still had a lot of living to do and people that would miss them. Dean was nearly invisible in the world, no one to miss him. Just another dead monster. 

"How are you going to do that?" Sam demanded. 

Dean smirked, "With a few skills I've picked up the years," he answered before he ran down into the cave, whooping and hollering. Sam hesitated to stop him for only a second before he gathered the three siblings and started to lead them through the tunnels. 

And of fucking course it would just so happen that the Wendigo would go after Sam and the three others even as Dean was practically throwing himself at the thing. And it would be luck that they would have been lead into a dead end. Luckily though, the monster was too focused on the four entrées in front of him that it did not notice Dean coming up from behind him to light up his ugly ass. 

When Dean looked up from the charred remains he sighs in relief that everyone is okay. Alive is okay. Alive is good. Alive is not dead. And it wasn't a failure. 

***

After telling the police about a bear attack Haley says her goodbyes to the both of him and Dean is so weak. Sam mistakes it for the usual tiredness anyone else would have after an event like they had been through. But really? Dean just wants to sink his teeth into something and drink. Heal up and stop the constant buzzing of nerves that is telling him that he needs to feed. 

Sam asks if he needs a ride. That Dean looks pretty shaken up. Obviously Dean denies any notion that he isn't okay. He's great. Just needs a few hours of sleep and he'll be better than new. He and Sam in a confined space for any length of time is a definite "no" right now. Dean is tired, bleeding only slightly, but it's been a full day of not feeding and he's been spoiled with blood. For years he's maintained the ability to find blood, collect it, and drink when he feels the need to do so. (It prevents any chance of him killing, of feeding off of a living breathing human being). It's a risk only if he's away from his hidden stash, and that was a rare occurance. Sam takes him at face value, though he still looks concerned. 

Dean leaves quickly and drives nearly twenty miles over the speed limit in a hurry to get to the motel. Even though he has blood in his car, it's too risky for him to pull over to break open a packet. Too out in the open. There's a hunter close by and he can't risk it. 

He stumbled through the room door and forgets to lock it. All he can think about is drinking and he needs it. 

He's downed one pack and was drinking out of his second when the door knob turns and it's too late for Dean to do anything to hide what he's doing. So distracted by the ringing in his ears finally quieting he doesn't see Sam walk through his door until he's inside and reaching for his knife as an instinct. 

Dean nearly freezes, but drops the nearly empty packet of blood next to the drained one on the wooden table. There's blood on his lips, he can feel it, and so he wipes it away with the back of his hand. He opens his arms out and dares Sam to come at him with the knife. 

"You're a vampire?" Sam asks, shocked nearly into speechlessness. 

"Is it really that obvious?" Dean quips, waiting for Sam to attack, confused as to why he still has his head. 

"And you helped me?"

"What are you? Brain dead?" Dean demanded, "Are you going to kill me or not?"

Sam takes his hand off of his knife and shakes his head, "Why would I do that?"

"You're kidding me right? Vampire," he said, pointing to his chest, "Hunter," he pointed at Sam, "Which means you kill me."

"You saved my life," Sam said, shaking his head, as if trying to contemplate what never seemed possible, "And Haley and her brother's lives. Why would I kill you?"

"Because it's your job," Dean said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Sam looked at the packets, "Where do you get the blood?"

"A friend," Dean replied, not willing to let the name of his supplier drop. It was a hunter friend of his. Human as they come. And for some reason he liked Dean, didn't gank him like any other hunter would have. It was inconceivable and any hunter that got wind that he was helping a vamp, well, things wouldn't be good and Dean was not willing to put a price on his head just because he decided Dean was worth helping out. 

"You don't drink from people?"

Dean shook his head, "Doesn't appeal to me."

"Alright then," said Sam, as if he figured out how things were going to go, "I guess I'll see you if we ever run into each other."

"Wait, what?"

"You're not doing anything wrong. Looks like you're trying to do some good. So long as you don't kill anyone I won't kill you. Besides, you saved my life; I'm not going to kill you. Seems like a pretty shitty thing to do to repay someone."

Sam left after that, leaving Dean behind, confused and unsure. In the end he decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and leave as soon as he packed away the few things he left scattered about the motel.


	2. Magnetic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I need to work on fighting scenes. Luckily I have a few opportunities to work on them in this fanfiction. I really hope my characterizations are working out. This is my first Supernatural fanfiction (did I mention that? Well now you know.) Also, this chapter is a little shorter than the last one, but most, if not all of them will be at least 3,000 words per chapter.

Reunions with Cas are less like meeting up at a designated place and more like "pop, there's Cas." If it weren't for the fact that Castiel could not actually just teleport wherever he felt like, Sam would think that he still had his wings. Somehow though, Castiel still managed to suprise Sam with his constant ability to find him and catch up to him quickly enough with Sam having hardly a moments notice before his partner was with him again. It had taken some getting used to, but it was something Sam was only mildly annoyed by after a handful of years working with him. 

In the beginning everything was new for Sam when he started working with Castiel. He had heard of the angels. Just about every hunter knew, to some extent, about the angels. The angels that had been cast out of Heaven, fallen from the white fluffy clouds in a hail of fire and burning feathers. They had occupied the Earth, nearly human, for more than a few hundred years by the time Sam had even heard the whispers about the angels. The angels that turned hunters, not knowing what else to do with their lives but continue to follow the hierarchy they desperately craved. Riding the world of monsters had become their new job. From the brief times Sam had coaxed Castiel into talking about his brothers and sisters he knew that they still were not overly fond of humans, still found themselves superior to them, but they realized they had no other choice but to coexist. Angels were easier to kill, no longer protected by the security that the Angel Blades provided (because back then only angels could kill angels, now, however, was not the case). Vulnerability was never something the angels enjoyed. So cohabitating the Earth was the only path they found would give them any chance of surviving. 

They still had their immortality...they were just more delicate than they were used to. Many angels died in the beginning of their lives on Earth because they could not let go of the notion that a "meat sack" could touch them, let alone kill them. Stronger, faster, they might have been, but not by the standards they were accustomed to.

Castiel, believe it or not because Sam didn't for the first time he met Cas, was the one who sought out Sam. He wanted a new outlook on the life he had followed for so long (because angels couldn't get over their old ways). Castiel still went back to them when called; because he couldn't waver his loyalty to the people he had spent centuries and centuries following. Sam understood, and he rarely questioned Castiel when he came back to him, more quiet than usual, and always bringing with him a lead to follow. 

It had become routine for the both of them. And they worked well together so who were either of them to break the cycle. 

So when Sam opens the door to step into the room he paid for he can't say that he's really all that surprised when he sees Castiel lounging on one of the beds, papers scattered about his person. His trench coat is hanging over a chair and the first thing he says is, "There's a vampire nest that's up north in the countryside of South Dakota. They're part of a bigger coven that has scattered across the states."

"Why haven't we heard of them before," Sam asks, closing the door behind him to settle in, "It's not like groups of vamps are common."

Sam tries to ignore that the first thing his mind jumped to when he heard "vampire" was Dean. It had been a week since he had first run into the vampire...hunter...man. For some unknown reason he had been waiting to hear around the vine that someone had found and killed a lone vampire. They were a rare enough oddity that Sam was sure that it would not be hard to catch wind that one had been caught and taken down. There would have been mild speculation, at least, as to why a vamp would chose to go rouge on its own. Sam imagined that an experienced hunter would bother to interrogate any vampire they found wandering around. Inquiring as to where the nest would be (one usually meant more was around) and when they found out that there was nothing else to go after, would easily make the kill. Anyone else would kill before looking around, which would leave more questions and people out looking for the rest of what could be out there. 

"No, they're not," Castiel admitted, snapping Sam's attention back to the topic at hand, "This group is...different. They stay mostly underground, nearly unheard of for long periods of time. It's hard to follow them, but they've managed to slip up."

"What did they manage to do? One too many murders around or what?"

Castiel shook his head, "I'm not sure. Their activity increased just a day ago. No explanation. And their location was identified."

"Alright then," Sam nodded, "When do we head out?"

"I think it would be best if we left as soon as possible. If they hear that we've found them they might scatter and who knows how long it would be until they make another mistake. They might become even more cautious than they already are. We don't want to send them back into hiding."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Well, it's defiantly the nest," said Sam from their hiding spot. It wasn't much. An abandoned farmhouse that wasn't too decrepit and old. It looked structurally sound, if a little weather beaten and grey. Secluded by the forest around them, just off the main road, it could be easily overlooked by someone who was not looking for it and close enough to town that the townspeople would make easy enough prey when they wanted to feed. 

"As I said," Castiel nodded, "There have been minor reports of people missing from the area. From the closest town as well as the surrounding populations. They don't like to pick from one area for too long."

"I don't get it," Sam said, shaking his head, "If they've been so careful, what got them so riled up that they made a scene the other day?"

Castiel frowned, "It seems as though they made a display at a local drinking facility. It was overheard that they were bragging about catching something...or someone as I've come to assume, though there's no real hint as to who they were so enthralled to come by."

"I guess we'll find out," Sam sighed and continued his visual scan of the land surrounding the farmhouse. It was high noon so there wasn't much movement. Although vampires could survive the daylight it was obvious that this nest enjoyed nighttime activities as opposed to dealing with the daylight. At the side of the building was a group of vehicles. Sam shifted, crouching through the over brush to catch a better look. Castiel sent him an odd look, but remind quiet, following Sam, watching his back for any potential attackers. 

When Sam managed to get a full frontal view of the parked cars and trucks he cursed. 

"Sam. What's wrong?"

At the end of the line, farthest from the line of sight when looking at the building head on, was the unmistakable shape of an Impala with the familiar plates reading KAZ 2Y5.

"I know who they have," his brows furrowed in concentration before he guessed at why Dean would be with this nest of vampires. At Castiel's questioning look Sam tightened his expression before adding, "He's a hunter," is what he settled with, knowing that the full truth was not going to help given the situation, "We ended up working the same case a week ago and we worked it together. The Wendigo back in Blackwater."

"Do you think he might have been tracking these vampires as well and they found him before he could attack?"

Sam nodded, "I would assume so. Might have bitten off more than he could chew."

Castiel nodded thoughtfully before standing up, "Well then, hopefully is mostly unharmed," he motioned for Sam to follow him, "Come, we'd best get the supplies. I think it would be best that we did this as soon as possible. Though they may still be able to survive in the sunlight, it does not mean that they won't be caught off guard while they attempt to sleep. 

Sam followed Castiel out to where they parked the car hoping desperately that he had not misread Dean. These vampires were killers and Dean had said that he didn't kill to feed. Sam had seen him with his own eyes feed off of cold blood in donor packets. And Dean had been alone, no signs of a nest anywhere nearby. A hunter. Who saved Sam and three innocent people even when the thirst was beginning to burn and they were all in the middle of the woods, easily disposed. To associate with this particular group seemed far from what he had seen of Dean those few days they worked together. 

"Do we know what these vamps are doing," Sam asked when they were going through their weapons, each selecting a newly sharpened machete, "I mean, if they're so spread out, is there any reason for it?"

"We think they're recruiting. They were nearly extinct just a handful of years ago. Replenishing their species might be what they're attempting to do." Sam ignored the "we" knowing well enough that Castiel had overheard the speculations from the angels he was with for the weeks he was gone. For the most part Castiel never made any mentions of them; this was a rare, and meager, slip up on his part. 

***

There was only one way into the barn, through the front doors. With their scents covered they slide between the doors, eyes darting every which way so as to not be caught off guard. Inside smelt of alcohol and old blood, neither covered well by the hay littering the ground. From their position they could make out the bodies of the sleeping vampires. They broke apart and inched forward. 

"Is that the hunter you met," Castiel asked, gesturing to the middle of the room where a sturdy support beam hosted a man tied up against the wood. He was not so far away that Sam could not recognize him instantly as Dean. His jacket was missing, slumped against the beam in his t-shirt, cuts scattered about his arms and dark splotches soaked into the front of his shirt where the stab wounds accumulated. 

Sam swallowed thickly and nodded, "Yeah, that's him. Get the vamps first."

Castiel continued with the direction, Sam not far behind. 

Both of them managed to kill two sleeping vampires each before the blood alerted the others into action. It was quickly obvious that the nest was full of young vamps. They attacked sloppily and out of order. More slash and clash than any real skill that an older vampire would bring to the fight. It explained the commotion in town and how easy it was to get information on the group that frequented one of the two only bars in the nearest town. Only two vampires gave Sam and Castiel any real fight. The woman managed to knock Sam's weapon from his hand and pin him against the floor, but with the death of her mate by Castiel's hand she lost focus and Sam managed to recover his weapon and decapitate her as she went to attack Castiel. 

When the last body fell Sam returned his attention to Dean, running across the floor until he was facing the other man. Dean was half-conscious, blinking warily through a dense fog of pain.

"Son of a bitch," Dean cursed when his vision sharpened and Sam's face came into view, "What the hell are you doing here Sammy boy?" His lips twitched for a grin but twisted into a grimace when the ropes were cut off, circulation flooding through his body. 

"Saving your life," Sam replied. His eyes kept flickering back and forth between Castiel and Dean, "Can you stand?"

Instead of answering Dean said, "You should leave me here," he raised his hand to gesture Sam away, "I can only hold on so long. I may be weak but soon I'm not going to be able to stop myself."

Dean's wounds weren't healing and he was losing blood, soon he would need to feed. Very soon. 

"Dead Man's Blood," Dean explained, "Did one hell of a number on me."

"And you've been here for three days. At least, haven’t you," Sam questioned and Dean nodded, not meeting Sam's eyes. 

"Dude. Seriously. If you want to help me, get the fuck out of here. You're running out of options. Because the only other option you've got is to kill me."

Castiel moved toward the two men, side-eyeing his companion, "Sam...What’s wrong with him?"

"We need to get him out of here," Sam ignored Dean's cry against that idea and lifted Dean from the ground, supporting most of Dean's weight. It was awkward because he had a few inches on Dean, but he would manage. 

"If you're so inclined to follow up with this death trap you're putting yourself in," Dean said as Sam led him out of the barn, "Take me to a friend’s place, he's an hour away. Has a dump of an auto garage, can't miss it."

Sam hesitated and Dean rolled his eyes, still trying to push away from the warmth of Sam's body. 

"Kill me now or take me to him."

Castiel glared at Dean, still not sure what was going on with the two men in front of him. 

"I will get the car."

Dean scoffed, "You'll take my baby. Hurt her though and I won't think twice about holding back."

Castiel regarded Dean coldly but headed for the Impala at Sam's agreeance. Dean stumbled into the back seat and when Sam went to sheath his weapon Dean gruffly told him to keep it out and watch his back. Castiel glared at Sam, who offered no explanation, and started the engine. 

"Do you have anything in the truck that could help," Sam asked, recalling that Dean had to carry the blood packets with him somehow. He ignored the pointed looks from Castiel. 

"That's why I was passing through the town. I wasn't hunting. I was going to meet up with the guy I know to resupply. Goddamn vamps saw me and fuck my life they thought they were going to please the big guy if they brought me to him...or killed me...I'm not quite sure what they were planning."

"Why would vampires care about an ordinary hunter," Castiel asked with all the force of an order. 

Dean sighed, wishing they would both stop asking questions. It was so much easier to ignore the healthy pulses mixing together to pump blood through their bodies. It was a waterfall rushing through his ears and he could feel his concentration slipping with each passing through. Trying to muddle through answering a dammed question and trying to suppress the urge to drink and heal was more difficult than either of them gave him credit for. Though...he didn't know if Sam had even bothered to tell Mr. Squinty Eyes (that were too blue to be real) that they were helping out the very monster they just killed a nest of. And wasn't that just funny to think about. 

"Let’s just say they think I have a messed up sense of priorities and leave it at that."

"That explains nothing to me," Castiel replied, voice even and steady, hinging on annoyance. 

"I'm just going to take a guess and say that you didn't tell this guy anything of our little adventure," Dean said to Sam, running his tongue over his second set of teeth that were beginning to push out against his will. It shouldn't be much longer, he thought and hoped that Sam, or his friend, had the brains to cut off his head before he attacked and killed one, or both, of them. 

"There was no point," Sam said, mostly to Castiel, "I didn't think I'd end up running into you again, let alone saving your sorry ass."

"Not your smartest move kid."

"We're here," Castiel pulled into the auto yard. The lights were on, darkness settling across the sky. 

Sam unsnapped his seat belt, leaving his weapon behind in favor of helping Dean out of the back seat. Contrary to how steady he managed to keep his voice he looked worse for wear than when he first entered the car. Again, Sam allowed Dean to lean his weight against his own body. Forcing himself away when the rush of Sam's blood overpowered his senses, Dean lurched away to slump against the Impala. When the haze faded he had a knife to his throat and blue eyes steady and strong baring into his soul. It was then that Dean realized his mistake and forced his second set of teeth to retract. 

"Cas, stop," Sam snapped, unsure how to get in between Dean and Castiel. 

"He's a vampire Sam."

"I know."

Castiel tore his eyes away from Dean to settle on Sam, his expression full of hot rage, "What?"

"I knew he was a vampire," Sam said slowly, "I didn't find out until after he helped me with the hunt. He hasn't killed anyone. You saw those vampires back there. Do you think they would feed Dead Man's Blood into his system if he was with them? Look at him Castiel," He demanded, pointed at where Dean held still beneath the edge of the knife, "He's not even fighting back. He's weak and drained and he hasn't attacked us once."

Looking back at Dean Castiel could see the signs of a vampire that had gone a while without blood. Rationally, he knew, by now Dean should be in frenzy, too consumed by hunger to hold back the pure basic instinct to attack and feed. He stepped back, allowing the knife to fall away from Dean's throat. 

"Very well."

A door slammed open, a cocking of a gun sounding from the porch. All three crowded along one side of the Impala looked up to see an older man standing outside of the entrance doorway. He looked confused at the sight of Sam and Castiel and a hit of recognition flooded through him when he caught sight of Dean struggling to maintain his balance (what little of it he had slumped against his car). 

"Damn idjit," he cursed and then looked at Sam and Castiel, "Well, are you two just going to stand there trying to look pretty or are you going to bring him into the house?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song title From Jesse J
> 
> *feel free to listen to the music that I base the chapter titles from I feel like it's kind of a playlist for this story so yeah*
> 
> Again, Comments make me very happy. And I'd like to thank everyone that has so far subscribed, commented, and sent kudos!


	3. The Outsider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow am I sorry this took so long. I had so much inspiration and I love writing this. Work has just kept me really busy lately and I've actually been going out and living a life! (This is new for me and I didn't realize having a life outside the internet would keep me busy). I"m hoping that, even with NaNoWriMo coming up, I'll continue up-dating this more consistently. Like I said, I have plenty of ideas for this fic.

Sam and Castiel quickly fell into motion at the command, each taking a side so they could support the bulk of Dean's weight. The older man perched on the porch had discarded his gun and stood, holding the door open to make it easier for Sam and Castiel to carry Dean into the house. Climbing the stairs proved to be the most difficult task. Dean's legs felt heavy, as if he were being held underwater, iron shackles around his ankles, holding him into the ground.

Bobby watched the scene with worry lines etched into his face. He had not seen Dean this bad since the day they first met. Back when Bobby first thought he was a hunter...human and in need of help on a hunt that led them both into a nest of vamps. Dean had made off worse than Bobby and demanded that Bobby leave him. It wasn't until he had Dean back at his Auto Dump in an attempt to fix him up that he found the truth about what Dean really was. Since then Dean had visited him a little banged up, but never really worse for wear. It would figure that the night he runs into two of the most dangerous hunters is the night he looks dead on his feet. His complexion was paler than it had ever been. Blood still seeped into his t-shirt and jeans, open wounds and lacerations against his open skin. Oddly enough Dean seemed drained enough that the energy that would normally pull him into a frenzy (especially in such close proximity to two easy pickings). It was obvious, to someone with Bobby's experience, that there was still a fight raging inside of Dean. His hands were shaking with the effort not to attack blindly.

It was that fight that kept Bobby from taking off his head right on his front porch. Or to give the order for one of the two hunters to just waste him and call it a day. As it was, from what Bobby saw of the exchange outside, the hunter in the trench coat, a goddamn certified angel, seemed like he would not hesitate to kill Dean if he were given the "okay."

Dean managed to push himself away from both men who were keeping him upright. He pushed a hand onto the door frame and leaned heavily on the little support it gave him. He looked up warily up at Bobby and managed to pull his lips into a cheeky grin.

"Good to see you again old man."

Bobby frowned, his brows furrowing, "Where the hell have you been boy?" His voice was gruff and clipped, but neither Sam nor Castiel could deny the concern that flashed in the man's eyes. It had them both wondering what Dean must mean to the man for that expression to cross a hunters face when he was looking at a vamp at the end of his reins.

"Run in with some old friends of mine," Dean replied, struggling to hold himself upright, hating himself for his weakness. And right in front of Bobby too. The last person who should be seeing him so messed up and hanging at the end of a frayed rope that was quickly becoming his control.

Bobby glanced at Sam and Castiel, silently asking for some elaboration.

"We, um, found him at a vamps nest. I heard about some people disappearing and thought it would be best to check it out," Sam quickly explained, trying not to stumble over his words.

"Can you do this later," Dean hissed, looking up at Bobby with his eyes pleading for something, and for the life of him Bobby was not entirely sure what Dean was asking from him.

Bobby pointed at Sam and Castiel, "Help him. Damn fool won't make it into the house."

"Bobby, you finished that panic room you've been talking about?" Dean asked, halfheartedly pushing away from the hands moving to hold him up. Bobby nodded, "Good, take me there. I can't," Dean winced. There was so much going on around him. Too many heartbeats, one faster than the others, fluttering with a speed that no human heart could bear. It was the only thing that really seemed to set the fallen angels from humans.

Any regular doctor would have exclaimed bafflement on how their bodies could be supported with an immense strain to such a vital organ for the human body. Besides their heartbeat, there was no other way to discern who was, or wasn't, a fallen angel. That is, until you were met with a holy smiting. That tended to clue most of the supernatural community that they were dealing with a fallen angel. Most were known only by name, few by face, and even few by both. It was heavily implied that if you did come to face a fallen angel recognized by the community, that it was best to turn tail and run because it meant that you had met up with one son of a bitch that you did not want to deal with.

Bobby nodded in understanding. He motioned the two hunters back and away from Dean. It wouldn't do any good now, but it opened up the room that was quickly becoming too closed in and filled with too many people.

He managed to get Dean into the basement and into the panic room. There was a wary look that crossed Dean's face (too open and vulnerable in his weak state to close off and keep Bobby, and anyone else, out of his head) and a flash of something akin to fear, when his eyes scanned the lock system and thick door. He hated enclosed spaces, Bobby cursed himself for not remembering and nearly told Dean that he didn't have to do this. It went against all logic and reason and he wanted to kick himself for thinking it, but he would do just about anything not to look at Dean and see the fear in those eyes. The fear that Dean never explicitly spoke of to Bobby, no more than a word here, a lose lipped phrase there.

"Getting paranoid in your old age Bobby," Dean snarked, voice rough and raw. He threw himself out of Bobby's hold and into the room.

"You won't have to be here down long boy. I'll get into my stock and get it to you. Soon as I can. Get you all nice and healed up." Bobby backed out of the door way and closed the door. The sight of Dean falling against the corner farthest from the door, slumped on the ground, one hand attempted to stop the blood from one of the deeper of his abdominal wounds, was the last thing Bobby saw before he trekked himself up the stairs.

Winchester and the fallen angel were still hovering at his door when he stepped out of the basement door.

"You two still here? Don't you have somewhere else to be?" He questioned. As grateful as he should maybe be that they had not killed Dean, it didn't change the fact that he had everything under control and no longer needed any assistance that they thought they might have to offer him.

Not wiling to stand around and chat, Bobby headed into his study, scowling when he was followed, but continued to head into the kitchen.

"You are....friends with this vampire?" The angel asked, eyes squinting at the thought of a hunter acting similar as Sam had to this particular vampire.

"Would be a shame to kill the guy that saved my life now wouldn't it?"

The angel nodded, still considering, "It seems he has kept with a pattern then," he stole a glace over at the Winchester boy before returning to Bobby.

Sam cleared his throat, "He saved me, and these three other humans, from a wendigo up at Blackwater Ridge."

Bobby nodded, "I sent him on that hunt. He didn't tell me he had made a friend," he sized Sam up a moment and returned to digging through his blood stash he had hidden behind the freezer. He got most of the blood from the butcher that worked in town. No questions asked, a quick and easy payment was all it took and Bobby had enough to keep Dean supplied for as long as he could. It started out as a transaction ordeal. Bobby would give Dean a call about some paranormal activity going on, Dean would take care of it and arrive at Bobby's afterward to refill his stash. At first Bobby sent Dean out on the hunts that were more likely than not to get him killed. He knew what he was doing and figured that if the monster of the week killed off a vamp it was better than sending out one of his other contacts out for the slaughter without a little forewarning on the danger. Eventually it dwindled into any hunt, simple or otherwise, that he would have Dean take on. Kept him busy, out of trouble, and Bobby could keep an eye on the vampire that somehow burrowed his way into the human hunter's heart. At this point, Bobby knew that Dean had other means of getting blood, but that he preferred Bobby's supply so that he didn't have to scam a red cross to get his quick fix.

"He ran away fairly quickly. I was concerned. We weren't in the woods for long and I didn't notice anything more than a few cuts and scratches, but I wanted to make sure he was alright. He didn't answer me when I knocked so I just...kind of went inside his room and there were a few packets already empty," Sam shrugged in an attempt not to wince at how awkward he felt under the scrutiny of a man old enough to be his father, "It really wasn't hard to add two and two and get four."

"Well thanks for not cutting off the damn fool's head. He's more use to me alive than dead."

"I still do not understand," the angel cut in, "Why someone of your status would allow such a thing to continue to exist in the first place. Surely you know the damage he could wield toward you if he so wished it. Vampires are not known for their restraint or respect for human life as more than a means to satisfy their desire."

"Well it seems someone hasn't been paying a lick of a attention. Now if you two will excuse me," he pulled out the freshest blood packets he had from the small supply of human blood he had stocked away in case of emergencies. He figured this constituted as an emergency, "That boy has been beaten and sliced into with Dead Man's Blood and has endured that for days. Given that you two were in a car with him and he is within inches of his life right now and you two aren't dead, I'd say that his control is as good as I've ever seen it. And now I'm going to make sure that he doesn't die, by giving him the only thing that will allow him to heal himself."

"I shall do that for you," said the angel, stepping in front of Bobby's way to the basement door, his hand stretched out to take the blood packets.

Bobby's eyes narrowed, "The hell you are."

"You and Sam have much to discuss, I feel. And I would rather talk with this vampire of yours. You two may trust him, but I, for one, do not."

Bobby glared at Winchester...Sam, "This guy going to do anything he might regret when he walks up those stairs?"

"Cas wouldn't hurt him," at Bobby's dead frown Sam added, "Not without reason to."

"Well their ain't no reason to, so watch yourself," Bobby handed Castiel the blood, "Or I'll shoot you so full of buckshot that they won't be able to identify your body boy."

Castiel nodded, unperturbed by the threat. Whether it was because he actually thought he had an upper hand against the hunter or because he headed the warning, Bobby didn't know, and didn't particularly care so long a he stayed in his place. He would not be pushed around by some heaven reject that thinks that he's above humans. Bobby had met plenty of angels in his time and he had yet to meet one that wasn't a giant bag of dicks.

Both Bobby and Sam side-eyed Castiel as he headed down the basement steps. Neither one meeting one another's eyes until the door closed behind the fallen angel.

Castiel did not know the layout of the basement, but it wasn't difficult to find the large metal door secured by locks and protective sigils. He allowed himself to briefly admire the work that went into the construction of such a safe guarded room. Bobby Singer was a resourceful man, and one who knew his way around myths, if the security sigils were anything to go by. He certainly did his research, and followed through with it thoroughly.

The door swung open willingly for Castiel. 

Blue eyes swept across the room, the sturdy walls and a desk piled with books next to a cabinet, supposedly filled with other essentials. Castiel's gaze did not waver and did not land on Dean until he scanned the far corner of the fortress, the area farthest from the door. On first glance it was obvious that Dean was struggling. He was perspiring, sweat dotting his brow, seeping into the collar of his t-shirt. His hands were clenched into fists, grasping and pulling at the hem of his shirt. Castiel could just make out the movement from Dean's position on the ground, back against the wall and knees bent and pushed as close to his chest as they could be with his arms in between both of them. Blood trickled down his chin, presumably from biting down on his lip with his second set of teeth. The set that itched and scratched with the desire to drink and feed. 

Dean noticed Castiel's presence almost immediately. His body tensed and he leaned away from Castiel's direction, the scent of both the packets of blood and the fallen angel's own permeating smell were overwhelming, hitting his senses like a suckerpunch into his gut. The wave like pulses Dean was receiving hurt and his whole body demanded that he pounced, that he lay claim on what he needed to survive. He was a ways past wanting the substance and far too deep into needing it for anyone to be safe from him. 

"Drop them and leave," Dean demanded through clenched teeth. 

When Castiel made no move to do either of what Dean asked from him Dean reluctantly turned his head to look at him. His green eyes were bright with fever burning in them and Castiel's form was hazy at best, his blood pulse deafening in his ears. 

"Dammit, you son of a bitch, you need to get out of here. Leave the blood or leave me alone, just don't stand there and look at me like some kind of side show freak."

Instead, Castiel started walking toward Dean, his steps echoing in the nearly empty room. 

***

"Am I going to regret leaving my boy alone with that feathered asshole," Bobby asked once Castiel's footsteps could no longer be heard walking down the wooden stairs leading down into the basement. 

Sam shook his head, his hair following the movement slightly, "I don't think he's going to kill him," he paused, unsure, "I'm not all together sure why he wants to go down there in the first place. To talk to Dean, I think? About what, I couldn't imagine. He's not usually like this."

"You mean to tell me that angel boy doesn't normally kill first ask questions later."

"You mean that you've never done before," Sam countered, "Didn't bother to stop and ask the monster if he had anything to do with the killings or whatever you were looking into during the hunt?"

Bobby glared, "No need to get nippy with me kid."

"So then what changed your mind then?" 

"Is it that hard to guess," Bobby asked, moving for the bottle of Jameson and two glasses, filling each with two fingers worth of the drink and handing one to Sam, keeping the second to himself, "It was a few years back. Long time ago it feels like. I had just started hunting out on my own. Before that I was with a friend of mine, who saved my ass more times than I can count and taught me most of what I know. It was a group of vamps and I was a little over my head to say the least."

"And how did Dean come into the picture?"

"Turns out, that boy has been systematically steering clear of this particular group of vamps and hunting them down all at once. I hardly had the chance to get a good look at him before he was cuttin' off heads and saving my sorry ass. Not that I didn't roll some heads myself, but I was injured at some point and sloppier than my usual and this vamp charges at me from behind. 'Course, I didn't see it coming until it was dead and Dean had a knife poking through his ribs. He tried to run off but before he could I was already hauling his ass back to the motel I was staying at. When I saw some of the smaller cuts healing I could hardly believe it. Didn't want to believe it I guess. Next thing I know he's pulling blood packets out of his duffel bag and downing them in one gulp and he's healing up all the way. And just...the look on his face," Bobby looked up from his drink and up at Sam, not continuing until he caught his eyes. 

"He handed me his own damn machete and told me that he wouldn't fight back, but he asked for me to make it as quick as possible. That if I wanted to know anything about the vampires I was hunting he would tell me anything I wanted to know," Bobby snorted and downed his drink in one swallow, "Told me that I didn't have to bleed it out of him before I killed him. He'd spill it all."

Sam swallowed uncomfortably, "And you didn't do that."

"He's alive, ain't he?" Bobby asked, but shook his head, "I told him to sit down, kept the blade in my hand, tried to tell myself that I was going to kill him as soon as I was done asking questions. Well...I asked and he explained everything to me. None of those details are passing my lips right here and now, haven't had enough to drink to let those military secrets slip. Afterwards I moved to give him his knife back and watched him flinch away and his eyes widen when I slipped it back into it's sheath and explained how our arrangement was going to work."

"So he just started going on hunts for you?"

Bobby nodded, "I supply him with what he needs. He doesn't murder anything but the monsters I send for him to hunt, saves people that would otherwise be dead. I'm not going to say that I didn't expect him to die and be out of my hair while he was out on the hunt. Not in the beginning anyway. Now I make him call once a week. Dean keeps me updating on anything he hears across the vine and I do the same for him."

"And no other hunter has caught wind of this."

"And no hunter besides those of us in this house is ever gonna. You understand?"

Sam told Bobby that he understood and allowed for another glass to be poured. 

***

"Why aren't you attacking me?" Castiel asked, standing right at the edge of where Dean's boots ended. 

"I'm a monster," Dean replied, "Not a murderer. Not if I can help it."

"And you can help it right now?"

Rather than vocally answer Dean just nodded, face tight with tension. He didn't know what the angel was playing at. Dean wondered why Bobby sent him down to give him something to feed on. Maybe this Castiel was sent down to him to put him down. It would be less than what he deserved really. He only wished that his death wouldn't be delayed much longer. His wounds were dulling in comparison to his hunger and he didn't want to hurt anyone, even a fallen angel he had no connection to. 

Mercifully Castiel dropped the blood packets onto Dean's lap and without a second glance Dean tore into them, sighing in relief when he tasted the human blood Bobby kept tucked away. It was cold and long past fresh, but it slid down his throat like silk and at once Dean felt his skin knitting back together, his organs revitalizing and the bloody sickness fell away after the third packet. 

It wasn't until he finished the fourth and last blood bag that Dean felt embarrassment tinge his face and flush his complexion. Dean looked up to see Castiel still standing above him and at once Dean felt cornered, unable to stand up with the angel so close up in his personal space. 

"Dude, ugh, Castiel, personal space," at Castiel's questioning glare Dean added, "Back up a bit will ya, I want to see Bobby."

Castiel stepped back a few spaces and let his eyes travel with Dean's movements as the vampire stood up, having to use the wall to support his full weight. 

"You no longer require blood?" Castiel asked, observing how weak Dean still seemed to be. He had expected Dean to be in full control of himself after drinking so much at once. The feverish glow to his eyes and the stiffness at which Dean had been holding himself had all receded, but he wavered as he stood up to his full height and he looked as though he had not slept in days. Which, now that Castiel had thought about it, Dean most likely had not gotten much, if any, sleep while in the care of the vampires that had held him captive. 

Dean snorted, "In a few hours I'll need another hit, but I"m good right now. Just tired." He started walking out of the room, gasping in surprise when he felt his legs give out underneath him. The feeling of weightlessness combined with the drop in his stomach as he fell through the air hit him and then suddenly he wasn't falling, but leaning against a hard body that kept him steady. 

"You are not as healed as you let on."

"I'm fine," Dean mumbled in near protest, but didn't do so any further as he was helped up the stairs.

Once out of the basement Dean's ability to remain conscious was wavering. Without the constant ache and pain there was nothing keeping him vigilant and awake. Through the void he heard Bobby's voice, at least, he was pretty sure it was Bobby who was talking, quite angrily at first and then demanding that Dean be taken into one of the guest rooms. After that point Dean was pretty sure he was being full on carried up the stairs, but he couldn't be sure because he could hardly keep his eyes open, let alone pay attention to details and once he hit the softness of a firm mattress he welcomed the darkness of sleep without a care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from the song by Marina and the Diamonds


	4. Don't Get Too Close, It's Dark Inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super sorry. Work has been crazy. I finally bought a laptop. (I also accidentally fell in love with Torchwood -Tosh and Ianto are my favorite, don't look at me- and I need to finish the tenth doctor before the christmas episode -instead of skipping 9 i'm skipping most, almost all, of 11). 
> 
> I'm not getting bored of writing this, I promise you, I still go back and read the previous chapters because they remind me of how much I love writing this.

Dean woke up to the sound of unfamiliar voices mixed with Bobby's familiar gruff rumblings. It didn't take long for him to remember who it was downstairs with Bobby. The past few days’ events hit him hard and he groaned as he sat up in the bed. Groggily he glanced around and was grateful when he saw that Bobby had kept the blackout curtains over the lone, standing window in the room. Though, it wasn’t like Bobby had very much company anyway. So it would have been a waste of time to bother with taking down the curtains on the off chance that there was someone he was willing to spare a room for (Bobby had trust issues even with the best of hunters. Especially with the best of hunters). 

As Dean pulled himself out of bed, feeling very much like a puppet with its strings cut, a new smell wafted through the walls and he cursed his luck. How he hadn’t figured it out, even in the midst of his hunger, was beyond him. Even with his senses out of whack, he should have been able to tell that Tall Dark and Trench coat was a fucking angel. Fallen angel. Whatever they called themselves nowadays. 

Angels were under the long list of beings that he avoided as if his life depended on it. Because his life did depend on it. 

Well, he wasn’t dead yet. And it had been a while since he managed to sleep into the early afternoon (his first glance at the clock told him that yes, it really was two o’clock in the afternoon, and yes, he did sleep for a good ten hours straight). 

He always did manage to feel too comfortable in Bobby’s home, and he tended not to make it a habit, always leaving within a week. He never stayed a week or over. There were times that Bobby would insist. Times when he thought that Dean was still too hurt or not recuperated enough to go back out on his own. Most times, when Bobby pulled that shit with Dean, Dean would remind Bobby what he was talking too. It hurt, more than Dean would ever admit, those times when Dean felt the need to point out that he was a monster. That it didn’t matter if he was well enough to go out on his own. He’d done it for decades, and would keep doing it. Up until the point where his head was cut off by a hunter (he knows that if he was ever caught by the vamps chasing him that he would not be given a quick death. Or given death at all). 

Dean always left before he could see the look on Bobby’s face. One too many times seeing it taught Dean that his self-control would break. One day, Bobby would forget again, forget what he was talking to, and he would ask Dean to stay. He’d make some bullshit excuse about needed Dean to help translate a book he was having trouble with. He’d say that he needed an extra pair of hands. He might even pull the “I’m not as young as I used to be” line that he tried that one time (it had Dean laughing like he hadn’t in years and his heart clenching at the thought of Bobby dying). And one of those times Dean will take him off on the offer. He’ll translate the book that doesn’t actually need translated because Bobby knows almost as much as he does in terms of languages. He’ll end up helping with some car that Bobby could care less about, but they’d both work hard on it and fix it up good as new. And for a while they’d all forget about   
Dean, until the time came where Dean would need more than a beer to stave off thirst. 

And after a while, Dean won’t want to leave. He’d make a habit of coming back after every hunt. There would be less phone calls and more face to face time that Dean secretly wants, but can’t let himself have. Because it will just continue to be harder to leave. It would be harder to lie. It would be harder when Bobby isn’t around anymore and Dean is left on his own again. He’d forget about being alone and then he’d be alone again and that’s all just too much for anyone, for anything, to cope with, his thinks. He rationalizes that it’s always going to be better if he doesn’t stick around. Takes the hunts Bobby gives him. Calls Bobby when it’s done. Takes another job. Another call. Another job. A drop –in once every month, sometimes every other month when the urge to see Bobby isn’t for business or necessity because he’s running out of blood and he doesn’t actually like hearing Bobby lecture at him for not showing up more often to resupply. 

Eventually Dean couldn’t put off his decent down the stairs. There was a distinct smell of coffee underneath the smell of angel and human (the angel now more potent, just as it should have been before). 

He didn’t bother avoiding the rickety stair at the top of the steps. Normally, in the dead of night, he’d avoid it, so as not to wake Bobby (that man was the lightest sleeper that Dean had ever encountered). Sneaking around in the middle of the day, now, that just seemed silly. Absolutely ridiculous. 

When Dean entered the kitchen area he was glad that no conversations stopped immediately. Because that meant that there was a nighty nine percent chance that they were talking about him and didn’t want him to know about it. When Dean entered the kitchen, there were no conversations going on. All three men sat around the kitchen table, awkwardly drinking their coffee. Their glances shot to him when he walked in, grateful that they at least didn’t have to fain interest in the walls and the peeling paint on them. 

“Just in time Sleeping Beauty,” Bobby huffed, standing up to hand Dean a cup of blood-laced coffee, “These two want to know why those vamps were after ya’ an’ they want to hear it from you. Apparently hearing it from me just ain’t going to do it from them.”

“It’s not that,” Sam said, large brown eyes shifting to Dean, “I just…we have questions.”

“And it would be best if we heard it from you, seeing as it was you that we saved,” Castiel finished, none too softly. 

Dean sipped his drink. The proportions were more blood than coffee and he was never going to figure out how Bobby seemed to know when he needed more or when he just needed something to perk him up a bit. 

“Guy just wakes up from almost dying and you want to interrogate me?” Dean snorted. 

“It is not as though you are very much alive as it is. So I don’t see why there is much concern over when we talk.” Castiel countered, and yeah, the guy had a point there. Even if it did make Dean shuffle his feet a little and avoid Bobby’s eyes as the old man went to scold a frickin’ angel. 

“Don’t even waste your breath Bobby,” Dean said as Bobby was nearing a tongue lashing. Bobby huffed again, but didn’t say anything as he took his seat across from Sam and Castiel, eyeing up the fallen angel as he did so. 

He leaned back against the doorway, facing the three people sitting around the table. Dean cradled his coffee and took a sip. 

“So what is it that you need to know? Should I start from my birth? My death? My exciting life as a vampire?”

Sam asked first, to Dean’s surprise, “We could…maybe start with why those vampires wanted you dead.”

“Ah,” Dean sighed, “You at least started out with an easy question. Though I think it would be obvious. What monster wouldn’t want me dead? I’m a monster, just like them, except I play for the other team,” Dean winked, sending a smirk Castiel’s way when he received a hard glare for the tease. 

“Vampires want human hunters dead. I’m a vampire hunting vampires. Have been since I was human. Only, when I was turned, I was expected to be on their side. Obviously I didn’t exceed expectations. So, of course they want me dead. Well,” Dean frowned, “Not dead. They want me alive. Which is why I’m still here and not fighting for my existence in purgatory.”

“Okay, but who are they,” asked Sam gesturing with his hands. 

Dean grimaced, “They don’t really have a name. They aren’t even run by the Alpha vamp. They’re just this side group of vampires that have been steadily building up their numbers. Back in my time-“

“Which was when?” Castiel asked, cutting Dean short. 

“Ireland, sometime around 1819. I left during the famine to America. Our boat was captured by pirates. Well, we thought they were pirates. Turned out to be vampires, led by a man that goes by Sorento. He turned the people he wanted to keep.”

“How did he chose who he turned,” Asked Sam, who looked taken aback when his question was followed by a grimace from Dean and a grunt from Bobby, “What?”

“It wasn’t anything special,” Dean answered, “The way he chose us. He just,” Dean shrugged and avoided everyone’s eyes, “He just chose the ones that he thought suited his tastes. He liked them, us, attractive. I guess. Back then, that’s what he wanted. He wanted baubles and he wanted them for as long as he wanted. Not everyone survived. He killed most of us, when he got bored of them.”

“But he didn’t get bored of you,” Castiel pointed out, “Why is that?”

Dean shrugged, “He doesn’t like what he can’t have. I don’t let him have me. I think he was more interested when he found out that I was a hunter. Thought it would be fun to turn me. Liked it when I fought back. When I escaped it pissed him off because he didn’t have control over me,” Dean smirked, almost laughed, “Doesn’t help that I’ve been killing my kind ever since. It’s only been in the last decade that I’ve started to lay low. Their numbers are stronger than they ever were, and I’m not stupid enough to think I could handle them.”

Sam cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable, “How long were you…with them?”

Dean shrugged, “Give or take forty years. Most of that time I didn’t make it easy on them, but the last ten, well…I can’t say I’m proud of those years. Took a little while to wane away from fresh blood after being with them for so long.”

“That had to have been terrible,” Replied Sam and Dean…well…he didn’t know how to take that. Sam wasn’t being sarcastic or mocking him. He sounded like he was trying to understand, to sympathize, with Dean (and, come on, it wasn’t like that was happening to him all that often). And it felt weird. Just weird, to have Sam, not feeling sorry for Dean, no, that’s not how Sam would want to take it. It wasn’t how Sam was speaking to Dean. But Sam was trying to treat him like a person who had gone through a horrible thing. 

And really, for all Dean knew, Sam was sympathizing for the human he used to be, but still hating the monster he turned out to be anyway.   
It would just be a waiting game. It was always a waiting game when it came to the people who seemed so good in Dean’s life. He always found a way to fuck things up. Fuck up the way they saw him. Because of who he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Title comes from "Demons" by Imagine Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter Title is a My Chemical Romance Song.  
> Also, from that song I got the title of this fanfiction.


End file.
